Calling all indie rock bands looking for a name. There's actually a facility called The Great Ape Trust of Iowa.

Speaking of apes... The president's "get well soon" e-mail greeting card to former president Bill Clinton on the occasion of his recent quadruple bypass heart surgery.

Remember to watch the debates tonight. What? You mean they're not really debates?

By any means, you can still play the drinking game.

Thousands of ways to annoy people.

Oh, snap! Guess what's new at Amazon.com?

And yes, now it's time for episode 2 of...

Scenes From My Life Yesterday, As It Could Have Been (And Maybe Was).

If you missed the first installment, you'll need to read this first -- Part One.

Turf, Surf, and Tequila Sunrise. (No purplert though)

Twenty underused Yoga positions.

Winners of Nerve's best pick-up line contest. I'm going outside to make out: care to join me?

Here's a few shots from my new cell phone. Good enough for blogging, I guess. The first few are from up at Como Park this afternoon, and the bottom one is from the dog park in the morning.









If anyone can get tickets to this, please let me know. The bad news is that Karl Mueller (of Soul Asylum) has throat cancer. But, old friends are stepping up for a benefit show, including Bob Mould (Husker Du), Soul Asylum, and of course Paul Westerberg. Sounds like a great show for a great cause. Now, just need to get me some tickets...

Bachelor pads, Hollywood style.

Cleaning pennies with Taco sauce.

Interview with Tommy Stinson.

Postal labels against Bush.

Check out MPR's radio show, Pop Vultures. (City Pages article on it as well)

Smittens. When you just have to emasculate your man a tad mit more.

Other fun stuff planned for later this week. Should have another exciting episode of SFMLY,AICHB(AMW) in a day or two, and hopefully some pictures as well. I just got a new picture cell phone, with a mini camcorder dealie built in (15 second clips). I'll probably try to post some new pictures and maybe a movie or two once I get it all working...

Tip o' the day: If you're a local news station, make sure you secure the ability to write school closing captions at the bottom of the screen. Otherwise this happens.

Swiss, Swedish, Danish, or Dutch? As if it matters.

Liberals take heart: Soothing words of comfort from Michael Moore. Now, watch this drive!

God vs. Bush.

Researchers at the University of Minnesota have solved one of the mysteries that have baffled scientists for centuries. You can swim just as fast in a pool filled with syrup.

So if I'm reading this right, and I think I am... I may just have a shot after all. Hmmm. Guess what hotel heiress is getting written into the next episode of SFMLY,AICHB(AMW)?

Stay tuned...

Scenes from my life yesterday, as it could have been (and maybe was).

Got my new issue of The Believer yesterday, and once again it put a bounce back into my step. Not literally, of course. I'm a trudger, mostly, sometimes a scuffer and shuffler or lollygagger. Not much into the whole bounce thing. Bad for the knees.

Anyway, they have an 8-page little insert of a old humor 'zine called "Army Man #1", which was originally scribbled out back in '88 by Jack Handey (yes, the "Deep Thoughts" guy), Ian Frazier, Mark O'Donnell, and a couple of other funny guys. It's mostly a collection of odd paragraphs, "deep thoughts", and assorted bits that have no meaning whatsoever, the longest clocking in at around 8 paragraphs or so. For someone with a short attention span, caffeine addiction, and no interest in the general goings-on of everyday life -- it's quite the perfect tonic. Here's a sample entry (although longer than most):

A TRUE STORY

Some lobstermen from Maine were vacationing in New Orleans when they encountered a group of crayfishmen. Words were exchanged, and a fight broke out. Naturally, the crayfishmen got the worst of it.

Angry and humiliated at being beaten on home turf, the crayfishmen accosted a group of keychain salesmen. "What kind of keychains do you sell?" they demanded. "Oh, mostly miniature lobsters," the salesmen replied. "They're about an inch-and-a-half long."

That was all the crayfishmen needed to hear. Within seconds, the keychain salesmen lay dazed on the sidewalk.

Later that night, the keychain salesmen ran into some microbiologists. "Microbiologists, huh? Ever work with any plankton that look like tiny lobsters, when viewed under a microscope?" "Why, yes," the microbiologists answered.

POW! BAM!

Battered and dizzy, but spoiling for a fight, the microbiologists roamed the streets of the French Quarter. Their only hope was to find a group of spies carrying microfilm of secret plankton research. And in fact, just such a group was visiting New Orleans that night, but on the other side of town, having decided that the French Quarter was touristy and overpriced. So the microbiologists were forced to take out their aggressions on an old security guard.

The next morning, the New Orleans police were baffled. But then again, police tend to be pretty clueless in general... even when it comes to picking a halfway decent wife.

This is reprinted without permission, of course, so please do yourself a favor and buy an issue of The Believer to enjoy even more like this.

The fact that it's in The Believer is fitting, because it's exactly the sort of thing that McSweeney's usually posts on any given day. (To wit, The Von Trapp Family Speaks to a Geneticist). The Believer is my kind of magazine. Makes me feel both smart and stupid, in all the right ways. As far as I know.

So, I guess you could say I'm inspired. I may flake out and start posting a few more odd-ball slices and musings (the sophisticated term for it) in the near future. Just tangential stuff, nothing much.

I also have some other thoughts for an totally Queer Eye makeover of the website, except I think I'll actually try to use colors that are less gay, and maybe use a font that the average person can read. Or not. Depends on how I feel. This dorky blog has become tedious of late, and quite frankly I'm not motivated to keep going exactly like it is... Not sure what the changes will be, but expect some differences to surface over the next several weeks... Or not. Like I said, it kind of depends on how I feel.

In other news, Jon Stewart is definitely funnier than Bill O'Reilly.

'Cuz nothing goes better with Guns than Vodka. For relaxing times, make it Santori time.

Some cranky guy goes off on writing prompts (which, according to Writer's Digest, helps you overcome writer's block). Apparently it works.

Describe your childhood home. Write down as many details as you can remember. Compare it to the location you call home now.

My childhood home was big and it had a sandbox! I had my own room and I never had to worry about food nor money. Now I live in a sh*t-hole apartment with my cat. The place smells like burnt fudge and curry most of the time, and my neighbors have a crystal meth lab. I’d like to live someplace else, but I’m a writer and I am poor. I always buy tuna because that’s the only thing that my cat & I can both eat. My job at Starbucks (the café at Borders wasn’t hiring) doesn’t pay any of my bills, but at least I am not waiting tables.

Burnt fudge and curry. Honestly, that's some pretty good writing.

Oops! She did it again.

Macauley Culkin in Home Alone III: Alone in Rehab.

Yar! Git yer pirate gear here.

Sigh. Kill me know. Paris Hilton is in line to play Daisy Buchanan in the remake of The Great Gatsby, which is being produced (gasp) by N'Sync veteran Lance Bass. Can't you kids go off and ruin a non-classic movie? Oh, by the way, I strongly suggest Ashton Kutcher in the role of Jay Gatsby. That would be, like, so perfect.

High bandwidth Friday!

If you don't have a high-speed internet connection, you're kind of screwed with today's links. Oh well.

There's a couple new movies coming out soon that are on my list. Wes Anderson's The Life Aquatic, starring Bill Murray. And then there's John Waters' A Dirty Shame. Both look pretty good.

Everybody was Can Fu Fighting... Those cats were fast as light-ning...

Wok boarding. Catch the fever!

Row Boat Veterans for Truth. Friends and fellow countrymen, it's time to set the record straight. "General" George Washington is no war-hero.

Who's Paul Westerberg voting for in November? Well. He's probably not going to tell you. "I mean, it's oil and water when rock 'n' roll mixes with politics. To me it's just wrong. It's something that Wayne Newton can do, you know?"

Paul. Come on, now. You're good a picking fights with people, but starting a feud with Wayne Newton? That's weak.

Hey Maddy, can you hear me now? Maddy? MADDY! I said can you hear me now? Oh, you're not listening. Go back to your squirrels...

Planetdan's guide to senior photos. This really made my day.

How you might explain the Olsen twins to a Martian. Again. This really made my day.

Dude, where's my restaurant? Ashton Kutcher's restaurant gets punk'd, twice. Needless to say, this really really made my day.

Note to self: Find something better to do with your days, man...

I wanna be sedated. Sigh. Johnny Ramone dead at 55. That's the 3rd Ramone we've lost in almost as many years.

And, timely as ever, the Uptown theater will be showing End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones starting tomorrow. It's only a week long run, so go check it out.

Well, it looks like The Replacements won't be getting back together anytime soon, but that's okay, because the new Stinson and Westerberg CDs are better than a reunion.

Tommy Stinson's Village Gorilla Head is the biggest surprise. I never pegged Tommy to be much of a songwriter, but he does the 'Mats legacy proud with this effort. He's been working the past seven years as the bassist in Guns 'N Roses (and they still haven't a released their Chinese Democracy record in all of that time, pfft). Anyway, looks like he's been putting his spare time to good use.

And then there's Westerberg. At first, I was only lukewarm to Folker, but now it's growing on me -- especially songs like As Far As I Know and How Can You Like Him (Better Than Me)?

This is classic Westerberg stuff. Once again, he locks himself in the basement of his house in Minneapolis and proceeds to record all of the instruments and vocals on a cheap recording machine. When its finished, he emerges, checks for his shadow, releases the album, and then shuts himself back down in the basement. Considering the completely do-it-yourself nature of this, well, color me impressed. The reviewer of this article sums it up best:

Forget that his solo career has been about as shaky and uneven as a 'Mats live show, but don't lose sight of the fact that Westerberg is shaky and uneven by nature. Remember that early forays into self-discovery and maturity like "Sixteen Blue" were stacked next to the juvenile buffoonery of "Gary's Got a Boner". This is especially important, folks, because Folker is a ragamuffin record: loose, crusty, draped in shabby anti-couture with trails of tape hiss and microphone saturation. This is actually good news and not a gripe; vintage Westerberg is marked by warts-and-all heart-and-soul, not the polished precision of a "professional songwriter".

Well said.

In other news, former Minnesotan and the only musician in history to be banned from the State Fair -- Har Mar Superstar -- is making a splash again.

To the rest of the world, he's Har Mar Superstar: the portly dude who stripped to his underwear on the Strokes tour; the funny guy who danced opposite Ben Stiller in "Starsky & Hutch"; the unlikely stud who has made out with Kate Moss at least a couple of times.

In the Twin Cities, he's still Sean Tillmann, the indie rocker who borrowed the name of a Roseville shopping mall and reinvented himself as a sexually provocative R&B singer.

Har Mar is my hero.

Something happens and I'm head over heals...


Okay, I suppose at some level -- for being a whiny crybaby -- I deserve this. Thanks Keith for the artistic interpretation.

Okay, seriously, this fascinates me -- Hillbilly Pulp Fiction. Sadly, I confess that I've never read a true "vintage" pulp novel, but after looking at some of these covers... I am REALLY curious to see just what's inside. How deliciously bad can these novels be?

And how can you not be interested in a book called Hot Dam? Tony Costaine and Bert McCall are flooded with trouble from an unfinished dam -- and a whisky mine. The woods had gone wild with murderers, salacious Scots, and kidnapers [sic] in kilts.

Stay tuned for a book review. I'm going to have to start scrounging around some used books stores to satisfy my curiousity.

And while I'm catching up with things -- this goes out to my buddy Tony in California -- Why conservatives must not vote for Bush. Tony left some blah-blah-blah rambling tirade on my cell phone sometime during the fair. Something blah-blah-blah about how I don't give enough "air time" on this site to conservative issues. Well, dude, if I may call you dude, I have no problems (okay, maybe a few) with some conservatives and conservative issues. But, and I hate to break it to ya -- the Bush administration is not conservative. (By the way, I tried sending you an e-mail to this effect, but the e-mails bounced -- send me a working e-mail address, 'kay?) Anyway, read the article, which just packages up the same reasons to dislike Bush, but from a conservative viewpoint. There. Now ya happy?

What else? Oh, for the ladies: you know what would make for a truly romantic evening for that special man in your life? Dust off the old lava lamp, put on an old Chuck Mangione record, and light these aromatherapy candles. It'll set the mood for love.

Cool. Man arrested for not leaving a decent tip.

Hmm. Just what does Fahrvehnugen mean?

Good grief.



I was hoping to resume my normal activities this week, but instead, I'm practically laid up in traction. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit (just a bit), but another fun day up at the dog park ends to pain, humiliation, and a limp.

Here's what happened. Saturdays are typically the most crowded days at the dog park. You get what we call "the weekend crowd" -- and at times you may get up to 20-30 dogs all spazzing out at the same time.

So, that just helps tire the kid out, so I'm cool with it. Anyway, I'm standing around making small talk with some of the 'regulars', and all of the sudden I hear, "Oh my God..."

By the time the voice actually hit my ears, I was suspended in mid-air -- looking up at that purty blue sky -- my feet oddly in sight. Then a hush. Stillness. And Blammo, the next thing I know I'm flat on my back.

Two, maybe three bigger dogs, all chasing each other at full speed, struck me from behind, taking my legs out and putting me in what I can only describe as the Charlie Brown Football kick position.

Then, as I'm lying there, a small crowd hovered around my body as I had one of those strange out-of-body experiences. Some dude that talks like Tommy Chong says to me, and I quote, "Man, you should never lock your knees at the dog park."

Whaa? Lock my knees? Get away from me!...

Once it was clear I wasn't dead, everybody (else) had a good chuckle about it, especially those damn lesbians.

As we exited the park, I did get one chuckle which salvaged the experience. Some woman was coming in with 3 dogs, so we nodded and said hello. What are their names?, I asked.

This is Tony, this is Orlando, and this is...


No. Wait. Let me guess.

---

Speaking of, a German basset hound set the record with the world's longest dog ears.

And, a letter to Elvis Presley from his hound dog.

Sigh.

Time for me to rest for a bit. Catch my breath. Spend some quality time with the hound. Maddy stayed with my Mom for most of the fair, so I picked her up yesterday and promptly made a trip up to the pet store to bribe my way back into her heart. Nice to have the monkey back at home.

Yesterday felt like a waste, and a disappointing way to spend the day after 12 days of bliss. A good portion of it was spent battling my video editing software (I tried to use 3 different products) to get something to turn out. Anyway, I'm posting a short version because I have neither the time nor the patience to screw around with it anymore. Okay, yeah, so technically I have the time. But patience? Nope.

Check out the video, State Fair 2004. (right click on the link and select "Save Target As...") [RealMedia clip, 17.7 MB]

By the way, the footage itself was taken in just about 3 hours on the last night. This is just a sampling of what you can see at the fair at any given time -- it's not a highlight reel or anything. Honest.

I'm taking the rest of the week off, so I'll be back on Monday. In the meantime, try to get some work done, or you can always amuse yourself by viewing the complete state fair archive.

Five Years at the Fair.

Whew!

I almost got to meet Mr. Go F--- Yourself today. As I was wandering up by heritage square, a noticed a entourage coming in through the north side -- tons of police and security. I knew it had to be someone important. Cyndi Lauper, for example, wouldn't be caught dead in a black Escalade, so I figured it must a politician. As it turned out, it was none other than Dick Cheney.

So, I used my state fair spider-sense and deduced that they must be heading to Sweet Martha's cookies. I rushed over and got in line just as he was glad-handing the locals. He was serving cookies for his photo-op. The pictures didn't turn out so well, I'm afraid, since I was in the bright sunlight and he was cowering in the shadows. Also, my autofocus didn't work too well, since I had to shoot with the camera over my head.

I made it to third in line before he turned away and left. Drats! How cool would it have been to get cookies from the Vice President of the United States? You know, the guy that RUNS the country? Do you know what I could do with a bucket of Cheney cookies? Well, me neither, but I'm sure loads of fun stuff.

And here's an interesting state fair Vice Presidential fact. In 1901, then Vice President Teddy Roosevelt appeared at the State Fair Grandstand and delivered his famous "walk softly and carry a big stick" speech. Actually, historians mistook his statements, as he actually said, "Walk softly and have a weiner on a big stick." But, so it goes. They let the misprint stand and it shaped our foreign policy for the next hundred years. Four days after that speech, McKinley was assassinated and Roosevelt became the 26th president of the United States.

Will history repeat itself?

After that bit of fun, I went home and juiced up my camcorder to take some video in the evening. I'll try to work on that today. If you want to see last year's tribute video, here it is (right click on the link and select "Save Target As...") It's a RealMedia clip, so you'll need to have that installed on your computer.

So, another year come and gone. 60 consecutive days at the fair, and counting. I got within touching distance of Santa Claus, the Vice President, and Cyndi Lauper. I practically threw out a hip doing a hula hoop contest. I ate fried rice, a reuben, and a batter fried corn cob -- all on a stick. I had my fortune told. I pet cows. I rode the sky glider, ferris wheel, and made a trip up the space tower. I saw skate-boarding, ski-boarding, diving, and fishing shows. I shopped for my grandmother's 90th birthday present. I milled around with friends and family. I did everything I wanted to. Why? Because, as Chauncey Gardener would say, "I like to watch..."

Now I'll slink back into my humdrum world and wait. For next year.

Day Twelve.

Day Eleven!

Short "day" today, if you want to call it that. Since I would be heading up for my Grandma's birthday party, I woke up early and made it to the gates at 5:45am. It had been raining, so I was hoping to capture the soggy side of the fair.

Unfortunately, after about 30 minutes, it started to pour. I got soaked, so I had to pack up my gear and go home.

I was hoping for a similar outing after I returned from Fergus, but the storms continued unabated. So, that didn't happen. At least I got a little fair in. And tomorrow I need to make the most of it -- it's the last day.

Day Eleven.

Day Ten!

I tried something different today. My grandma's 90th birthday party is tomorrow, so I decided to do all of my shopping at the fair. Yes, it can be done.

Actually, her birthday's not until November, but this was the easiest time to get the whole family together. Anyway, tomorrow's postings might be sparse and late. I'm going to run through the gates right as the fair opens, and take some pictures before heading up to Fergus Falls for the day. Then, hopefully I'll make it back again by evening to stretch my legs before retiring for the night.

Day Ten.

Day Nine!

Catching my breath for that final weekend.

I stopped in the Grandstand today and decided to try one of those back massager things. It's a little device that you press between you neck/back and the back of a chair. As you lean forward, it kind of crawls down your back and gives you a very relaxing massage. Supposedly.

I watched as some old guy was trying one, and it nearly sent him drooling. So, okay, I figured I could use a little break. The saleslady fitted me up and we started going. Ahh. The neck. Perfect. Love the neck. Then I leaned forward a little and as it started "crawling" down my back it must have hit a funny spot, because instead of the relaxing me, it tickled. It was like a sharp tingle right down my spine. And then I started laughing. And finally, as this thing kept tickling me and I kept laughing, I had to literally hop out of the chair...

"Get that thing away from me!" as said before I left.

The woman kind of shook her head, "Well, I've never see THAT before..."

Day Nine.

Day Ate!

You know what I need? I need a state fair shrine in my house. And some accompanying ritual. Here's what I'm thinking. First, I need a menorah type candle holder, but with spaces for 12 candles. Then I'd need someone to make Pronto Pup shaped candles to use as inserts (with mustard, of course). Around my Prontomenorah, I'd place all of my State Fair memorabilia. Each night, a candle would be lit. I'd sing the "Our State Fair is a Great State Fair" song, and then down a shot of tequila. On the twelfth and final night, I'd don my State Fair leopard print boxers, go outside, and howl at the moon...

Or, maybe not. Just a thought.

One note about a couple of the pictures. There's a state fair survivor contest run by one of the local TV stations. Twelve people, locked into a plastic booth for the duration of the fair. They can only eat popcorn and Kool-Aid. No, I'm not kidding. This is the real deal. Each day, one gets voted out. The winner gets a car or something.

We're down to the final 5 contestants. Today's "challenge" was to stand on a bucket and hold a sign over your head 'until you drop'. I arrived at the fair about 11:30 and all were still standing. By 3:30 in the afternoon, only 2 remained. So, if you're wondering what the deal is with some of the pictures, that's the story.

Day Ate.

And on the seventh day, He rested!

And He found that it was good.

I didn't bring my camera to the fair today for a couple of reasons. First, I went to the Cyndi Lauper concert and according the official state fair web site, they don't allow cameras for the Grandstand shows. Drats! Of course, as it turned out, that was completely unenforced. Everyone had cameras and bulbs were flashing all about through the whole show. Double drats! I guess that'll teach me to follow the rules in the future. Hmmph. And second, perhaps a little more important, I figured I needed a little break to just enjoy the fair experience without looking through the lens. The fair isn't just about pictures. Pictures don't capture everything.

Like the smell. Of manure and mini-donuts.

So, to appease some of you, I've posted a few pictures from previous days, and I'll be back to my regular camera self starting tomorrow.

One interesting thing was that I dropped a quarter into one of those old time fortune teller machines, like the one they had in the movie "Big". Only this one was way crappier, and had this shriveled up old lady that looked like Norman Bate's mother in Psycho. Here was the fortune she gave me:

"Since you are so clever in so many ways, you have learned to make the best of things. Your life as a result is not spoiled by the curse of boredom. You are fond of gay music, and like to dance. You are an impulsive person, given to exclaim in ecstasy if things please you."

Excuse me? Fond of gay music? Where the hell did that come from? I was a little disappointed, seeing as how I spent a good two bits on this prophecy. I thought, this is such a scam. A rip-off. Telling me I like gay music. Pffft. Of course...

One hour later I was 15 feet away from Cyndi Lauper. Dancing to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun". Exclaiming in ecstasy.

Day Six!

Today was struggling screenwriters day at the fair (unofficially). Some of my writer friends -- Dan, Jody, and Jake -- came over and we made a full day of it. Sadly, we missed Ann and Jay, partly because of me mixing up the usual schedule. Sorry about that. My bad. Next year for sure. Really.

With our writer's group, we normally get together every 2 weeks and review our respective works in progress. This year we did it at the fair, and I for one think it's a tradition that should continue.

Dan volunteered to take my alternate camera and get into the spirit of things by taking some pictures. I think a nice digital camera is going on his Christmas list. You'll see. I've noted which pictures he took.

So, that was that. We did our "work", but still managed to squeeze in a few hours of fun. Here's...

Day 6.